What Is Sweet Mytherie?
A space for sacred storytelling and sovereign truth at the bookends of life—and the story contained in between.
Sweet Mytherie is not a brand.
It’s not a method.
Rather, it’s a murmured reminder—at birth, at death, in grief, in awe—that this moment, right here, matters.
Here, we offer tools and stories for those walking the sacred thresholds:
- Into parenthood
- Into transition
- Into becoming
- Into remembering
This is a space for the ones who don’t want a formula.
For the ones who know the old scripts don’t work anymore.
For the ones who feel the pull of deep presence, sovereignty, and soul-deep support.
And Who Am I?
I’m someone who’s stood at those thresholds myself—more than once.
Someone who’s learned — sometimes the hard way — how to listen.
And someone who’s guided thousands through the in-between.
But mostly, I’m someone who believes in beauty, clarity, and telling the truth as gently as we can.
My name isn’t important. Embracing the mythic is what matters. Names carry weight, and can be distracting; if you must call me something, call me “L.” But really, forget me — we are here to remember you, and the call you’re hearing from the depths of your being.
What matters is that you’re here. That you’ve found this space sitting within the ether. A space that honors the sacred call for you to walk courageously through the path of your soulscape — and that you get to walk it your way.
Founder’s Note:
Greetings From the Spinning Room
I wanted to say hello, to send you love, joy, heart, and merry wishes.
I’ve stood at the thresholds I now write about.
I’ve given birth.
I’ve held the dying.
I’ve whispered truth to strangers in rooms that pulsed with fear and love in the same beat.
I’ve trained others to walk alongside the sacred in such moments—and I’ve walked it myself.
And once, for 1 minute and 33 seconds, I left this place entirely.
None of this makes me special.
I’m just another human, doing what I can to make meaning along The Way. To bring love, compassion, hope, joy where I can.
Some days I do this better than others — just like every human who walks this plane.
So what does it mean?
That I’ve been there—and I know how to whisper the way back when you have forgotten how to hear.
I’m not here to tell you how to live, how to birth, or how to die—or how to hold what aches.
I’m just here to spin what I’ve gathered into something you might carry with you.
A story. A tool. A breadcrumb on your path.
Thank you for walking with me.
